Addiction is Killing Me
by Pieces of Me
Summary: Spike never came back that night. After a year, Faye realized he wasn't coming back. The Bebop felt empty, so she left. She cut her ties to the past and found herself happy, but now the man who was only a memory has returned. He's tearing her apart. SF
1. Lessons from the Past

_Try not to reach out,  
But when I tried to speak out,  
Felt like no one could hear me.  
Wanted to belong here,  
But something felt so wrong here.  
So I'd pray,  
I could break away._

Kelly Clarkson - "Break Away"

Chapter One Lessons From the Past

She ran her hands along the table in the darkness until they met with the cold metal of her gun. From the moment she felt it, a lump formed in her throat. Memories struck her like lightning and tears stung her eyes like acid as she fought desperately to blink them back. Her gun was an old friend, one she hadn't seen in awhile. She knew the tears weren't about the gun.

She hadn't used it since that night, the night she had fired desperately in the air . . . anything to make him stop and turn around. He was a ghost, a shadow constantly looming over her. She carried his weight on her shoulders, plagued by the life he left unlived. She knew how pathetic this was, and time and time again, she tried to tell herself to let go of the past. The past didn't matter. She'd spoken those words herself, but now, how could she believe them? How could she believe them when they were the words of a man who was now only the past?

One year. He'd been gone for a whole year, but it still didn't feel like the past. Nothing happened. Without him, there were no adventures. She was left on the Bebop every day to sit there and think about him, to remember him and everything he had done. Everything within the walls of the ship held something of him. The yellow couch, the cigarettes, and the awful cooking. It all screamed out everything he was, and his room . . . no one would enter. Jet had said many times that he would clean it out for her, because it was much bigger than the room Faye occupied, but he'd never stepped a foot in there. Faye wondered why. She wondered, maybe, if it was in hope that he would come back someday, but Jet wasn't the time of person who would hold onto something like that.

Everything seemed unaffected by Spike's death. Everything but her. She'd cried many times since the day he'd left. She'd damned Julia and she'd damned the world, and she'd even prayed that he'd come back someday. It didn't do any good. It was a year, and he'd never come back. She kept her little, undying hope that he would someday return buried deep within her heart where no one would ever find it. She hid it well, because she knew, the moment Jet found out, he would crush it.

This night, however, was different. That afternoon, she'd caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She was pale and thin, and dark circles had formed under her eyes. She knew what she looked like. She looked like a corpse. That had opened her eyes, because she remembered, just then, what had killed Spike. Stubbornly, Spike had refused to let go of the past. Ties to the past had led him to his fate like a leash, and Julia was the one holding them. That night, she was cutting _her _strings, those invisible strings that bound her to him. For a long time, she'd worn his weight on her shoulders, as though she had been carrying his corpse. This night, she would drop this weight and leave it behind.

Having successfully blinked back the tears, she placed her gun and her yellow outfit in the wine-colored box that had once held nothing but cigarettes and magazines. She placed other little things in there, things that no one knew she had. In the darkness, she poured her life into that box. Her gold bracelet hit the floor with a little clatter, and her hands roamed in search of it. She couldn't turn the light on to find it. It would wake Jet up, and it was too late to turn back. She'd had her mind on this all week. It was too late to turn back, and it was too late to start thinking about Jet.

She placed the lid on the box and slid it underneath the yellow couch. Standing up, her eye caught a shadowy shape in the darkness. No, there was nothing there, even though she half-expected to find Spike, busted up and bandaged. She told herself that she was being ridiculous, that he would never lie there again. They'd never fight again. He'd never bum another cigarette. He'd never pull another stupid stunt.

She'd never see him again. It stuck her like a bullet in her heart, and the tears flew freely. She hated how he was so stubborn and cocky. Danger. It'd always been his most handsome trait back then, but now she damned it. She wished the past had stayed the past, but, hypocritical as it was, she wished the present would just melt away. She could never go to a bar without hearing the tales. They all ended with his triumphant ending, how he'd gone out with a bang.

She wished they were only stories. She wished Julia had only been a dream. She wished none of it were real. Somehow, it didn't seem fair. What had she done to deserve this pain? Why had he made her feel this way? Why did she have to be so stupid? Jet had explained to her the complexity of it all. He told her that Julia was Spike's other half, that without her or hope of finding her, Spike was dead. It was common sense that he didn't belong there without her, but Faye had never been a rational thinker. Come to think of it . . . neither had Spike.

For a long time, she'd been certain that Spike didn't give a damn about anyone other than himself. Now, she wished with all her heart that this assumption had been true. Her heart throbbed in her chest as she muffled her quiet sobs, burying her face into the cushions of the sofa.

But, after a good cry, she did what she had intended to do, because Faye Valentine was stubborn too. She stood up slowly, taking one last glance at the ship, but it was useless. The ship had been painted black with darkness, and without Spike, it didn't feel like home anyway. "Goodbye ... " She spoke gently to the darkened halls of the Bebop, and the tears made it impossible to understand. "Goodbye Jet...Goodbye Ed...Goodbye Ein..." She fought to swallow the lump in her throat and wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. This was it. "Goodbye . . . Spike . . . "

This time, she wasn't coming back to the Bebop, and, because she hadn't stolen anything, she knew that no one would look for her. She'd lost yet another life. Now, with a heavy heart, she was starting all over again.

Her ship took off and vanished into the blackness. To Faye, life on the Bebop was now only a memory.


	2. My New Poison

**Thanks For the Comments Guys! **Everyone rocks so hard. I love you people for reading. Honestly. 333 Btw, 10 days until my fifteenth birthday. Sorry, but I'm so excited! I'm gonna get my Driver's Permit. Run while you can! Oh man, this may also seem different, but this is a SpikexFaye fic all the way... sorta. It's coming. ;-)

_I don't mind spending everyday _

_Out on your corner in the pouring rain  
Look for the girl with the broken smile  
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile  
And she will be loved_

_She will be be loved. _

"She Will Be Loved" Maroon 5

**Chapter Two My New Poison **

****

The bar was empty that cold, dreary night she spent on Mars. She sat there in silence and drowned away her troubles with strong whiskey, holding a cigarette in her other hand. Silence. She was relieved to be separated from empty conversations. She took a long draw from her cigarette and exhaled slowly, gesturing for the bartender to pour her another shot. "Leave the bottle," she finally said once he'd made his fifth trip down to her chair.

Faye Valentine was already beginning to change. She looked different tonight, dressed relatively normal in a black skirt and a red velvet top. Instead of looking cheap, that night she looked rather feminine and classy, and impossible as it was to believe, her stomach wasn't showing and her breasts weren't spilling out of her top. She was beautiful; the kind of woman a man would admire, rather than shouting obscene suggestions or references.

The door creaked as it opened, and the little bell above in jangled as a new customer had entered. The bartender, about a foot away, was obviously relieved to have a fresh face, one that wasn't as dreary as the woman who sat in front of him. A bitter cold wind filled the room, blowing around Faye's hair and causing her to shiver. She could easily smell the smog and exhaust from the hair outside, and wrinkled her nose in disgust before inhaling again from her cigarette. Soon, the door slammed shut and everything was peaceful again.

She couldn't help but turn to see who their new visitor was, and she glad she had. He was one of the most gorgeous men she had ever seen in her life. He reminded her of someone she'd seen before, someone beautiful, but she couldn't put her finger on who it was. His name was just sitting on the tip of her tongue, but she shoved it away. She couldn't help but notice his long dark hair as he sat down beside her. It was pulled back in a loose bundle by a small piece of black ribbon. It was much longer than hers. Nearly as long as...Gren's. That's who he reminded her of. He reminded her of Gren, and of all the places to meet this man, she met him at a bar as well.

He removed his canvas colored trench coat, which looked similar to something Spike would wear, and Faye saw he was dressed in a dark suit. He looked extremely distinguished, and somehow, even with the tiniest of actions, he had a strong aura of finality, as though he always knew what he was doing and he'd never had to question it. Faye wasn't sure why, but it seemed to her like he was a man who had everything figured out. It seemed like there was never a rainy day on his parade, that he never had to stop to clear his mind and take a breather.

"You really shouldn't smoke, you know." His voice was heavy and dark, deep and as rich as chocolate fudge. Chocolate. He had deep chocolate-colored eyes which were shining with a cocky "I Know Everything" kind of attitude. When their eyes met, Faye felt as though someone had stolen all of the air out of her lungs. Her heart hammered, and when he flashed her a white, flawless movie star grin, she couldn't stand it any longer. She flushed and turned away, staring into the shot of whiskey that lay before her.

He ushered gently for the bartender to come, and he ordered two coffees. Coffee at a bar. Inspecting all of the bottles of hard liquor that lined the walls and the look of surprise on the bartender's face, Faye found it easy to believe that they didn't get orders like that too often. Once the bartender left, he turned to her, pressing his knees into the flesh of her hip as he struggled to keep his balance on the bar stool. "It's a little too late for a girl who's alone to be drinking."

Faye's throat tightened and she had to stop before replying. "And what are you doing out so later?" She asked him while staring into the amber-colored liquid that filled her glass. Her voice sounded slightly cynical. "You look like a man who has better places to be than this one."

"Really? I'm not sure how I should take that." She raised her hear to watch him as he spoke. She listened closely to the richness of his voice, and the way he articulated everything so perfectly. A little frown of worry formed on his face, but it quickly vanished. His eyes smiled into hers, and he explained. "Well, I'm normally at home and in bed by this hour, but a patient of mine, well...well, a patient of mine was being an ass, and there's not better word for it. I hate those stubborn ones."

"You and me both." The coffee was soon delivered, and the man slid a cup beneath her. The strength of its brew stung her nose and made her eyes water. Before she could make any sort of protest, he took the bottle of whiskey and her shot glass. "Want to know something stupid?"

"Of course."

"I've never had coffee before." His laugh was musical as it sounded it in her ears, causing her to smile weakly. "I just remember my mother drinking it, and the smell was so strong. Our kitchen always smelt like coffee."

"Well, try it. It can't be any worse than what you were drinking." Reluctantly, Faye took a sip. It was dark and strong, burning her throat a little, kind of like a good alcohol. She took another sip, enjoying the taste of it and the way her taste buds tingled. She felt warm for the first time since this unnaturally cool weather had struck them. "Like it?" He asked gently, flashing her that irresistable smile yet again. She nodded greatfully, turning the cup up for a larger drink. "Good. As late as it is, you need to sober up a little."

She'd never had anyone worry about her like this before. No one had ever looked at her with such loving, concerned eyes, and she'd just met this man. She'd just met him, and she trusted him completely. "I've never really liked doctors that much," she admitted. She looked up from her coffee and met his gaze of disapproval. His beautiful face was twisted in a scowl. "What?"

"I've never really liked smoking that much," he told her, pushing her an ashtray.

"Well..." Her mind flashed to Spike and all of his flaws. He had always been smoking, even when he was lying broken and bandaged on the yellow sofa. "It is a nasty habit, isn't it? Well, I'll quit." She couldn't believe what she was saying, but it was time to change anyway. She put it out in the gold ashtray and pushed it away.

He smiled warmly. "Good for you. Now, why wouldn't you like a doctor? We're so loveable."

"If only they were all like you," she replied, laughing softly. "I owe one...a lot of money. I never really had say in it all, either." She sighed, already wishing for a cigarette. It felt like an appropriate moment to take a puff. Cigarettes weren't always about the nicotine. Sometimes, it was just about having something to do, and sometimes, it was all about the style. She would miss being able to drive the guys crazy as she brought it to her lips. "People do what they think is best for you, but sometimes they should just leave it alone."

"Someone other than a doctor has wronged you. I can tell by that voice of yours."

"The world has wronged me," she replied bitterly.

"That isn't true. I haven't." He reached out and touched her hand gently, but quickly jerked it back as though he had placed it on a stove. He seemed ashamed, laughing at himself and lowering his own gaze to his coffee. "I apologize," he said gently before looking up, their eyes meeting yet again. "I don't even know your name."

"Faye," she said quickly, as soon as the statement had been made. "I'm Faye Valentine."

He took her hand in his, and Faye's heart was hammering more than it ever had before. Looking into his eyes, she knew what they reminded her of. They reminded her of Spike's heated gaze that night, the night he had left her there alone. The night of the fight he had never returned of haunted her, even in some of her finest moments. Her hand tingled and he kissed it. His lips were soft, and frankly, undeniable and she leaned in closer. She took in the fresh scent of soap and cologne. "I'm Victor Hwang," he said gently, their lips a mere inch or two apart. "Do you have a place to stay while visiting Mars, Mrs. Valentine?"

"No." She shook her head, trying her best to swallow back the lump of desire that had formed in her throat.

"Would you like to come home with me?"


End file.
